Becky the Absent-Minded Housewife left this comment on the NASCAR-romance post: ...his racing suit outlined every muscle, every rippling ridge of his well defined manhood. When he threw me on the hood of his Ferrari I knew that I was his and his alone, bending like a cheap fender to his steely will...
Okay, Becky has gotten us off. To a good start! Gotten us off to a good start, I mean. Your mission, should you choose to accept it—and I know you will, because nobody wants to disappoint Her Juiciness—is to compose your own excerpt from a smutty little automotive romance novel. The writing workshop is now open; please take a seat in the comments and show us what you've got.
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Oh, #891, as you rev up your stick shift and pound it into my roll cage, I declare, "You've got it going on! I'm so glad that Cialis is your sponsor!"
It was almost like he'd been driving me for years--one hand cupping my ass like a sweet low rider bucket seat, the other shifting me hard into second gear. As he accelerated, bringing me around the turn and heading for the finish line flag, I couldn't help myself--I honked. He immediately withdrew his wrench from my grille, and sat up, puzzled. "What was that?" he asked. "That," I answered, "was the sound of my love." "It sounded like...a horn." "How appropriate," I purred, "because...you...make...me...soooo horny."
Austin's car muscled into the pit and settled in the track. The pit monkeys hustled to their work like so many blue-jumpsuited scurrying ants. He turned his head and a low whistle escaped his lips as he saw me. I slowly advanced towards the rumbling car, my jumpsuit tight and unzipped in the most suggestive manner. He slipped off his helmet as I bent over and leaned into the window.
"I'm here to service the tension/torque belt. Are you ready for your lube job, Mr. Sexton?" My voice was husky and had the desired effect.
His eyes grew as dark as his chesnut mullet and he leaned back in the seat. Amidst the whining drills and thumping of tires, I heard his voice, thick with desire.
"You've got 40 seconds, baby girl."
Chesnut mullet...omg...crying...
After the lovin, I handed him a cold can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, as we cuddled in bucket seats.
"You know Baby, you're the only one to make my engine roar", he said.
"Oh yeah, I heard that you've been accepting tune ups from that hussy Britney on the weekends". I pouted and thrust my bosoms forward under his wide eyes.
"Her? Her allen wrench couldn't put together a Walmart bureau. It's you baby. You've got the Wd40 I need"
"Well then, is that the seat buckle in my back or are you still really glad to see me?
I like Feral Mom's!
i've been trying for days to come up with something and i just can't! my brain won't allow me to think nascar!
We were making good progress until I pulled the zipper down on his racing suit and it jammed. I frantically tried to pull it up & down to get it to clear and it got stuck in his chest hairs. I then headed off to my sewing cabinet for a pair of sissors, but the mood had changed. Damn zippers!
Did you guess that I don't read romance novels?
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